There are places society prefers not to see. Prisons are often built far from our neighborhoods, behind high walls, at a distance from daily life. Yet for the Vincentian Family, no wall can erase the dignity of a person, and no distance can excuse indifference.

A recent article tells the story of “Cristina,” a woman from Latin America who has lived in Spain since 2006 and spent eleven years in prison after receiving a long sentence. Eight years into her imprisonment, she came into contact with the Marillac Foundation and the Daughters of Charity. Since then, they have supported her during prison leaves and after her release. “I have no family here,” she says, explaining that they have accompanied her emotionally, psychologically, personally—“in everything.”

Several Daughters of Charity at the gates of a prison.

Her story reminds us that prison ministry is not first about programs, but about presence. It is about listening without reducing a person to the worst thing he or she has done. It is about entering spaces of pain, guilt, judgment, loneliness, and longing for a new beginning.

Gemma Pérez, a social worker with the Marillac Association, says that working with people in prison forces us to confront our own limits and prejudices. Their stories disturb us, but they also humanize us. For her, it is essential to “step onto the prison yard,” because ministry cannot be done only from an office. To understand the reality of those who are incarcerated, we must go out to meet them.

This has deep Vincentian roots. Sister María, a Daughter of Charity and national coordinator for the social area of Prison Pastoral Ministry in Spain, recalls that since St. Vincent de Paul and St. Louise de Marillac, the Company has been present in the prison world. St. Vincent himself sent the Sisters to care for those condemned to the galleys. Today, that mission continues in prisons, halfway houses, isolation units, workshops, and spaces of accompaniment.

Sister María describes isolation units as “three prisons within one,” with serious psychological consequences. In those places, the Daughters of Charity offer workshops, dialogue, active listening, and human recognition. But she insists that the heart of the mission is simple: “We are a living presence of Jesus Christ inside prisons. It is not a matter of doing great workshops. We are there to accompany and to listen.”

For the Vincentian Family, this is a powerful call. The imprisoned are not forgotten people. They are brothers and sisters whose humanity has been tested, wounded, and often hidden from public view. To serve them is to follow Christ into the places where mercy is most needed.

May we ask ourselves today: Who are the people our society has placed far away so that no one will see them? And how is God inviting us, as Vincentians, to go out and meet them?

With information from the bulletin “Odres Nuevos,” published by the Province of Spain Center of the Daughters of Charity, No. 43, October 2025.